Sunday Trip to Church

​Saturday night bath, baby last.
Sunday morning, dirt trails take us there.
Cool air; wild fall asters strew our path
As our family goes to Sunday church.
Big bluestem, bronzed by summer’s final rays
Line our way to
Long Gospel readings, sacramental proceedings,
Wiggling kids on rough-sawn pews,
As our ragged pastor hews the solid sermon planks
From ancient Bible logs.
Rough-cut church floor,
An upgrade from our packed-dirt dugout,
 Pioneer ways
And lonesome time between our fitful worship days.